


Dancing on my own

by drifting_star



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, Heartbreak, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Plot What Plot, Unrequited Love, bad language, me trying to use russian pt.2, omg this is long, or maybe not, the timeline is messed up, zero context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drifting_star/pseuds/drifting_star
Summary: "He’s standing in a corner, far away from the centre of the party. He can’t believe this is happening for real, for all this time, he preferred to tell himself that it was just a bad dream, or some kind of sick joke. It isn’t."Nathan Chen is at a wedding, he's heartbroken and a tiny bit too drunk for his own sake.(note: I wrote this thing in a frenzy listening to Calum Scott'sDancing On My Own)





	Dancing on my own

**Author's Note:**

> Now, now, first of all: this is fiction and it doesn't consider real life. I'm extremely glad seeing that Misha is alright and happy, and it's important to remember than this is a story and is completely separated from real life. 
> 
> Well, as I said in the summary of the story, I thought that the lyrics of that song suited this imaginary situation of Nathan being at Misha's wedding, looking at him dance with his newly wife, so. 
> 
> At the beginning, this had a sense, but it gradually lost it, as you'll notice; it's pretty surreal, but just go with it; and they both behave like dumbasses and are pretty rude for a while, sorry for that. 
> 
> Anyway, since I like doing random things, I kind of decided that Nate had to be demisexual, but please don't take me seriously, I'm not assuming anybody's sexuality; stressing on it a little but more, this is just a story and the characters I've put in there are far away from the real skaters (and, I don't believe that this pair is real nor I want it to be). 
> 
> Okay, sorry for this ramble, I don't people to misinterpret what I do; just don't take me seriously and you've done the trick. 
> 
> P.S: Sorry for eventual mistakes that escaped my revision

**_I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her_ **  
**_I'm right over here, why can't you see me_ **  
**_And I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the guy you're taking home_ **

  
He’s standing in a corner, far away from the centre of the party. He can’t believe this is happening for real, for all this time, he preferred to tell himself that it was just a bad dream, or some kind of sick joke. It isn’t.  
  
It’s happening right now and he’s looking at the scene and can’t see anything else. There’s no music, there’s no one else. Just him and them, too engrossed by each other to notice him, lonely and sad at the end of the ballroom. And that’s okay. He doesn’t want to be noticed; this hurts more than he wants to admit, already, he doesn’t need people pitying him for what happened. It’s how it is and he doesn’t want to change things. He doesn’t have the right to want it, he should’ve never been part of all of this, he shouldn’t even care this much.  
  
But it hurts, it hurts so bad to look at him from a distance, to see him happy with someone who isn’t him. For all this time, he thought they had something, but it turns out that he was just a naïve boy and maybe he should’ve known better. How did he think that someone like him could ever feel something for someone like him? He’s been so stupid and he should’ve seen this coming.  
  
He keeps repeating this to himself, but he doesn’t know if it’s true. Maybe he was blinded by the brightness of the sun and he didn’t think that it would end like this. With him, broken hearted and half-drunk, trying to ignore everybody else, feeling sorry for himself, with messy hair and tears in his eyes.  
  
He wants to be happy, he really does, but he can’t. Not when he feels like dying inside just looking at him with her; seeing how he looks at her, how he holds her close and how radiant he his. That’s what worse, the way he’s smiling: sweetly and softly, his eyes sparkling lightly; he’s so beautiful, right now. He thought he was the only one who’d seen that smile before, but of course he was wrong.  
  
He feels so jealous, and he wants to slap himself for being so stupid. He wants him to be happy, because that’s the only thing he cares about, but he also can’t stand not being the one making him happy. It’s selfish, he knows that perfectly, and, yet… he can’t stop thinking about it, he can’t stop thinking about him. About him and his eyes looking at him as if he was worth something.  
  
It was heart-breaking to find out the truth. For all this time, for this entire year, he was just the “side chick”. He feels revolted knowing that he’s cheated on her with him; and he wants to hate him, he wants to hate him so much for what he did to both of them. He wants to storm up to her and tell her the truth but he can’t ruin the best day of his life. Maybe he should; because this also is the worst day of _his_ life, and also because she deserves to know who the person she’s just married really is.  
  
That’s the problem. He’s sure that he’s not like this; he knows him. He’s the sun personified, he would never hurt somebody of his own freewill. Maybe, exactly as the sun does, he can hurt people unknowingly, leaving them in the dust of what’s left of them when he abandons them. But he’s a grown adult, for god’s sake. He’s twenty-four, he should know what doing what he’s done implies.  
  
It hurts so much more knowing that he did this on purpose. Did he really think he wouldn’t find out? Of course, it’s stupid of him; he literally wanted him to find out along with everyone else. He didn’t even call, he just sent him an invitation to the wedding, a plain, anonymous, cream-colored card. He didn’t explain anything; maybe he didn’t even feel like he needed to.  
  
  
He still doesn’t know if he’s taken this well, he’s confused. He supposes the should feel angry, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel anything at all, apart from this emptiness, from this sinking feeling of nothingness. He wishes he’d told him something, anything, before posting that photo. Instead, he just disappeared for two months, without writing to him, basically forgetting he ever existed.  
  
He looks at them again, and he can see why he’s fallen for her: she’s incredibly beautiful, in that dress, and she’s an aura of kindness around her which makes her seem even more stunning. Her smile is bright and he can see from where he’s standing that she cares deeply for him. And Misha does, too. He hopes so, he knows so, he can see it.  
  
But then, he doesn’t understand why he’s cheated on her. He doesn’t know what to do; maybe he wants to be swallowed by the ground and to disappear, because looking at him makes all those memories come back, and he feels himself blushing madly.  
  
Instead of running out of there as fast as he can, he slouches down on the floor and takes his head into his hands, the music hurting his ears. He’s trying so hard not to cry; he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing what he’s made of him, even if he knows that he’s too focused on his bride to think about his foolish twenty years old side chick crying because he thought he could actually be loved back.  
  
\---  
  
_He wakes up early in the morning, out of habit, and he almost gets up to get ready for training, when he remembers where he is. He’s not back home, he’s in Japan, the Worlds have just ended and he’s the champion again. He’s happy about it, sure, but he knows he’s principally won because he didn’t put a foot wrong; if Yuzuru wasn’t still struggling with his ankle, he doesn’t think he would have made it. He’s positive that he’s not human._  
  
_He wishes he could reach his level on everything; yes, he’s a two times World champion, but he’s a two times Olympic champion and sometimes his legs feel like pudding when he’s standing near him, because he’s scared he’s going to turn around and kill him, even if he’s actually one of the nicest and most respectful people he’s ever met; he’s scary, alright. And, anyway, he’s not what he’s the happiest about._  
  
_He smiles and listens to the calm heartbeat of the person he’s lying on top of. It feels different this time, so different from all the previous times, to wake up in the same bed, holding each other like their life depended on it. It’s different because he’s finally found the courage to let himself go, the night before._  
  
_It’s strange that it took him just a year to feel safe with him, to know that he can trust him unconditionally. Not that he’s fallen in love many times before, he’s still young; but he doesn’t think he wants to fall in love ever again, because he can’t imagine his life with anybody else._  
  
_He still doesn’t know what Misha thinks about what he’s said about himself a year ago; that if the only thing he wanted was sex, he’d have done better leaving, because he probably wouldn’t have gotten it anytime soon -not that he didn’t have feelings for him then, but they were way less strong than they are now. He only knows that he took his face into his hands and told him that it was okay, that he would’ve done anything he asked him, and then just held him through the night; he remembers it like it was yesterday and it makes his heart start to beat faster._  
  
_Because he’d people telling him that it was stupid and that he was exaggerating, saying that having causal sex is normal and that maybe something was wrong with him; that nobody would ever want him if he told them something like that. Like his family, sometimes. They don’t do it because they want to hurt him or because they’re bad people, but just because they really can’t understand, they really don’t understand what it feels like to know that you don’t need nor want to have sex._  
  
_Maybe, after all, they were partly right; it’s not that he doesn’t want to have sex, he only needs to really know people, to see their soul, before he can feel real physical attraction for someone. He’s to love them first, before he can let himself go. What makes everything almost funny is that people probably think that he’s such a bad boy, who lures people into his arms and abandons them when he’s finished playing with them. No assumption about him could be more wrong than that one._  
  
_“Nathan?” he’s a bit startled when he hears his whisper and when one of his hands begin to play with his hair, but he relaxes right away, knowing that he’s safe where he is, that he’s where he feels loved. He props himself on his elbow and looks at him, that little stupid smile still on his face, and waits for him to say something more, to explain why he sounds so worried and maybe even sad._  
  
_“How do you feel?” Misha asks, after staring back at him for some seconds, as if he was wondering if he was somehow hurt or scared, and he wants to remind him that he’s not made of glass, but doesn’t. He only dumbly observes him for what feels like an eternity, realising how lucky he is to have him in his life; to be held by him, to be kissed by him._  
  
_He didn’t know pure art could fall in love with a common human so simply. Not that he’s sure that he loves him back, he hasn’t told him, but he wants to believe it. He wouldn’t be looking at him like that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have shown his soul to him so light-heartedly if he didn’t._  
  
_And it feels strange to be this in love, this blinded by the sun himself, but Nathan’s fine with it. He’s never felt this much before, and he knows that perfectly; he’s never felt this overwhelmed, he’s never felt this strong connection to somebody before. After all, it wasn’t so shocking to realise that he was attracted to him in ways he thought he wasn’t capable of; because it’s him, and it couldn’t be anybody else, just him._  
  
_Since he hasn’t said anything in a while, Misha probably deduced that he’s not fine, even if he hasn’t been better before in his entire life, because he softly puts his hand on his cheek, caressing it sweetly. What he can see in his eyes is desire to say so much, but what he doesn’t see is the courage to tell them, and he’s taken aback for a few seconds, because he doesn’t understand what’s going on, or why he doesn’t simply say what he wants to say._  
  
_Again, they just stare at each other, saying nothing at all; and, maybe, they don’t need to say anything to understand each other, everything can be read into their eyes, because, as they say, they’re the mirror of the soul._  
  
_“I love you.” Nathan murmurs, without thinking, lost into the sea of his irises, captured by those waves and left drowning without help. It feels so right to say it for the first time he doesn’t even feel scared, and he thought he would feel terrified saying those words to someone who means this much. But he knows he’s safe and that everything will be fine._  
  
_For this entire year, all they’ve done was kiss in secret, hold each other through the night during competitions without anybody discovering anything, talk about anything when they were together, and it feels so surreal that somebody was willing to do all these things for him, when he thought nobody would ever do it, when they led him to believe that nobody could ever love him, because he’s wrong, there’s something wrong in him._  
  
_If Misha hadn’t realised that he’s given everything to him, that he’s given his heart and soul to him, before, now he surely does. And he wants him to know how amazing he is, he wants him to know how much he means to him. He wants him to know that he’d do anything for him, he would give him the moon. He’s his whole world, he’s not lying._  
  
_He’s his sun and he feels like he’d lived in darkness for all those years when he didn’t have him. And it’s strange for him to not be scared, because he should be, he should be, because he doesn’t know if he loves him back, not really, but he also knows that he wouldn’t have done all those things for him if he didn’t._  
  
_Even so, for a moment, he sees a shadow pass in his eyes and he doesn’t know how to interpret that, but he doesn’t think much about it, he doesn’t realise that there’s something he doesn’t want to tell him._  
  
_“_ _Я знаю, cолнышко…”_ _his grasp of Russian isn’t that great, so he doesn’t really understand what those words mean. He only waits for him to continue, as he always does. Misha smiles at him, with one of those incredibly beautiful smile which seem to have a light on their own, which leave Nathan breathless, because they feel like something which’s usually hidden, like a star existing just for him. He gently kisses his lips and then puts his hand on his chest, over his heart._  
  
_“I love you, too.” he eventually continues and this whole situation feels so right that Nathan doesn’t want to leave anymore, he doesn’t want to go out and start living his normal life again, always feeling like he was missing something. He’s fine where he is, he doesn’t need the rest of the world to be happy. He doesn’t need any more medal to be happy. He has the most meaningful “gold” he could ever ask for and he doesn’t want any piece of metal that would mean nothing to him, as long as he has_ him _._  
  
_\--_  
  
_He can’t breathe; he really can’t breathe. It’s like somebody had just punched him in the guts, like he’d just fallen after a quad, the air getting knocked out of his lungs unexpectedly and suddenly, so suddenly that he’s left gasping nothing for a while._  
  
_The phone is shaking in his hand, as he rereads the caption under Misha’s post, a part of him hoping that it’s just an idiotic mistake of the translator, another knowing perfectly that it isn’t, and that maybe he should’ve seen this coming. But how? How could he see that coming?_  
  
_He has a feeling he should’ve, because he should’ve realised it was impossible for someone like him to fall in love with someone like him. He wants to disappear; he really wants to. He’s already feeling like he was fading away, too sad to accept what’s going on, too angry (with himself for falling in love, with Mikhail for making him fall in love with him) to even feel anything; he wants to scream but doesn’t even find the strength._  
  
_He keeps looking at the words, immobile and stark black against the bright white of the screen, as if they could shift into something else, but they stay exactly as they are, mocking him for his stupidity._  
  
_“I have a bride”; it’s badly translated, but the message’s still clear. And he’s trying so hard to tell himself that he can’t be affected by that. Because he can’t be hurt, considering what kind of person Misha has just revealed himself to be. A liar. A cheater. Maybe even heartless._  
  
_He can’t accept this as the truth, but maybe he should. Because he’s lied to him, he’s lied to her. He cheated on her, because he can’t believe they’ve been together for less than two months and are already getting married. And heartless… Well. You_ _gotta_ _be heartless to do what he did to him. To them._  
  
_But Nathan knows perfectly that he’s the one who’s been tricked into believing something which wasn’t true. Those three words didn’t mean anything; Misha waited until he got what he wanted, what everybody wants and then he left. He knew he was going to do it, he expected him to do it for every second of whatever they had, because it’s just what everyone does._  
  
_Maybe, he just didn’t expect it from him, because he’s not like everybody else. He’s unique and nobody in the entire universe could ever be even similar to him. No one in the entire universe. He’s the most amazing person he’s ever met._  
  
_He can’t move, because he knows that, if he did, he would crumble to pieces. There would nothing of him but the dust of who he used to be, his heart lost at sea and asking for help, having lost the lights which were guiding it home._  
  
_He tries for as long as he can to stand still, gripping his phone in his now sweaty hand, trying to think about anything else but what he’s just found out. The more he tries not to think about it, the more he does._  
  
_He remembers his eyes, those clear eyes which made everything as clear as them in his life; he remembers his voice, as he whispered everything he ever needed to hear to him; he remembers his hands on his waist, as he held him closer; he remembers wanting to forget about the rest of the world when he was with him, and that was probably his biggest mistake. If he hadn’t been so awestruck by him, maybe he would have noticed sooner that something was wrong._  
  
_He would’ve understood that Misha wasn’t so secretive about their relationship because he’s Russian, or because of the press, but simply because he had a damned fiancée back home. He would’ve understood that there was always something unsaid between them. But he didn’t, so, maybe this is all just a consequence to his own actions._  
  
_He eventually breaks down, unable to keep all his emotions caged, knowing that he would’ve exploded in a more inappropriate moment if he’d tried to. He doesn’t think at all when he throws the phone on the other side of his room, as if he was just a spoiled kid whose favourite toy had just been broken._  
  
_As the tears begin to flood his eyes and to stream down his face, he falls face-down on his bed and grabs a pillow, holding it close to him, as if it could comfort him. He cries silently, because he doesn’t want to be found in these conditions, even while feeling like he was dying inside, as if his heart was being violently ripped in half. He cries until he doesn’t have tears left, until he feels completely numb._  
  
_When he just can’t take it anymore, he screams helplessly into the pillow. He wants this nightmare to be over, he wants to disappear and leave nothing behind. He stares blankly at the ceiling, feeling the sudden desire to take the last medal he’s won and to break it into tiny pieces, so he could give it to Misha and tell him: “Look. This is my heart. This is what you’ve done to me”._  
  
_He wants to hate him. But he can’t, he could never hate someone who gave him this much, even if he ruthlessly took it away. He could never hate someone so beautiful. Beautiful yet so lethal, he reminds himself. Exactly like the sun; you want to look at it, because it’s just so captivating and you can’t tear your eyes from it, even while knowing perfectly that it’s going to hurt you._  
  
_He wants to hate him but he hates himself, he hates himself because he should’ve known, and, yet, he didn’t pay attention to what his minds was screaming at him, he let himself be guided by his idiotic and naïve heart._  
  
_He wants to disappear, because, if he doesn’t mean anything to Misha, then, he doesn’t exist anyway._  
  
_\--_  
  
He wants to disappear, because he can’t stand to see so much fondness in Mikhail’s eyes while he looks at somebody who isn’t him. This is how it was supposed to end from the start, but his stubborn heart still doesn’t want to accept it. He hopes nobody will see him sitting there, pathetically trying not to cry over a married man, he just wants to suffer in silence, in peace.  
  
That’s what he always does. People want him to be perfect, to be a “strong virile man who doesn’t cry”, like every picture-perfect American bad boy, but he’s not like that and he can’t lie even to himself, not while feeling so miserable and lost, not while his heart is breaking in even more pieces than before, and he knows it’ll be impossible to stitch it back together.  
  
He doesn’t know for how much he stays there, breathing heavily, suspended between crying and throwing up, trying to ignore the rest of the world. He’s not looking at the dancefloor, anymore, he’s covering his ears with his hands, not wanting to hear the cheerful and romantic music.  
  
He flinches when he feels a hand on his arm, and he doesn’t even have time to open his eyes that he’s being pulled up from the floor and dragged away from there. He doesn’t even try to resist; he lets himself be taken out of the venue and out on the dim-lighted lawn outside.  
  
At this point, knowing perfectly who’s taken him there and having no intention of talking with him, he tries to sneak away, but doesn’t succeed; Misha doesn’t even turn around, he just tightens the grasp on his arm. Nathan bites his bottom lip and continues to follow him, because he, quite frankly, doesn’t want to encounter his determined stare, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.  
  
When he finally lets go of him, he falls against the wall in the space between two windows, sighing, bracing himself for the impact with words that don’t come. They stare at each other for some seconds, could even be an entire minute, without saying anything, as if they wanted to say so much but didn’t have the courage to do so.  
  
Again there’s that gleam in his eyes he’s already seen the day he first told him he loved him, and he suddenly understands that there’s was something he didn’t want to tell him, and it was _this._  
  
All of this: him having a fiancée, him getting married. Him being a dirty liar and a cheater. He’s been dead honest with him, he’s told him every deepest and darkest secret of his soul, and everything he did was lie to him as if it didn’t matter.  
  
His mind is foggy and it’s difficult for him to concentrate; he’s intoxicated with alcohol and tears and his pain, and he just can’t take it anymore. He can’t stand Mikhail’s blue eyes, blue like a clear sky, like a calm sea; he can’t stand the fact that he almost looks completely unaffected by the sight of him in this pitiable state. He can’t stand how handsome he looks dressed like this; his heart can’t take it.  
  
He wants to kiss him. He doesn’t. Instead, he follows the line of thoughts in his mind; a single line of the same words repeated over and over. _Bastard. Cheater. Liar._ He can’t think straight; he’s lost into his despair, as if he was into a dark maze and couldn’t find the right path, trapped into the cage of his furious heart.  
  
He feels the impelling need to punch him in the face. He does. He’d never thought he could hurt him, but he’s not himself right now.  
  
Misha seems shocked for a moment, holding a hand on his face, gaping at the ground, as if he couldn’t believe what’s just happened. He should’ve seen that coming. Maybe now he’ll realise that there are consequences to his actions.  
  
When he looks at him with an indescribable expression, hanging between shocked and enraged, Nathan immediately feels guilty, even if he still has his hand curled into a first.  
  
“Nathan, calm down!” he’s not screaming, he’s kind of hissing between his teeth, not even cruelly, just a bit surprised and betrayed. _Betrayed._ At this point, he lets out a hysterical laugh, unable to stop himself. It’s almost funny. He doesn’t have any right to feel betrayed. That’s what you get when you pretend to be in love with somebody when you’re really engaged.  
  
Ha! He feels betrayed. Maybe he should tell him that he feels like he’d stabbed him and then just left, leaving him to drown in his own blood. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he invited him to his wedding.  
  
He hadn’t thought about how messed up this is until this exact moment. He doesn’t know why, it’s something so obvious. Maybe he’s exaggerating, but he can’t think about it now; he might be a bit more drunk than he thought he was.  
  
“Calm down?” he says, unable to stop the words from flowing out his throat. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Do you realise how messed up all this is?”  
  
Misha stares at him for some seconds, as if he was more stunned by the anger in his voice than by the punch itself, as if he could take physical violence but not psychological violence, and it seems terribly stupid seen like that. He should’ve thought about this, he should’ve known.  
  
Nathan isn’t ready to talk with him right now, and surely isn’t ready to forgive him. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to forgive him. Even if he had a good explanation, he wouldn’t be able to forgive him for what he did to him, and to his fiancée, too.  
  
He keeps thinking about her, because for her it’s even worse: she’s an unaware victim of this whole situation. She doesn’t know anything at all, he’s understood it because she would feel exactly like him if she knew; he wants to tell her everything, every single detail of the truth, he wants to break Misha in pieces and unmask him for who he is.  
  
He shouldn’t think about it, because he knows he’s just angry, because he knows that, after all, he still loves him like there was no tomorrow (and there’s isn’t; not for him, not for them). And he knows that he’s a good person; he wants to believe it, because it can’t be anyway different. Not after everything he did for him.  
  
“Believe me, I do.” he eventually sighs, understanding that Nathan only wants an answer and isn’t going anywhere until he receives one. Yes, that’s everything he wants. He doesn’t want him back, he doesn’t want him to leave his wife for him, he doesn’t want him to lie to him again; he only wants an explanation.  
  
He only wants to know why he did what he did. Why he lied to both of them, why he somehow lied to the entire world, why he lied even to himself. Why he’s wanted to pretend that he’s a heartbreaker when he clearly isn’t. He could start asking nicely, but he doesn’t find the strength to do so. Maybe he’s just trying to protect himself from getting even more hurt than before.  
  
“Good. Then, what the fuck is going on? Is it so difficult to just explain it?” Mikhail’s still holding his face into his hands, and he doesn’t know why, but, in this precise moment, while he feels like he’s never been this much pissed off before in his life, with the soft music he’s trying to ignore coming from behind the wall he’s leaning on and the warm summer breeze messing his hair up, he notices that he’s _bleeding_.  
  
This is gonna be hard to explain, isn’t it? He shouldn’t care this much, but understanding that he’s actually punched him so strongly that he’s losing blood hits him hard. He never thought he was capable of hurting somebody, especially someone he loves this much, and it scares him so much he almost cries. He’s drunk, he’s gone and he doesn’t want to do anything stupid, more stupid than what he already did.  
  
“Maybe it is.” only three words, he answers with three words. Three words that don’t explain anything. Three words that mean nothing. Three words that could mean anything.  
  
It makes him angrier, he makes him feel like he was about to explode, like he wanted nothing more than rip his own heart off his chest and throw it at his feet, so he can step on it a bit more. If it’s so difficult to explain, he might as well just keep hurting him and making him think that what he wanted was an affair, all he wanted was to fuck him and now he’s just a problem. That he’s someone he’s never wanted and who was never supposed to fall in love with him.  
  
“Thanks, now I finally understand.” he spits out, and, this time, he actually, figuratively _spits_ at his feet. He didn’t know alcohol had such a strong effect on a broken heart and he didn’t want to find out, but here he is.  
  
He wants to disappear; he wants him to understand how much he’s hurt him and that’s he’ll never recover because of what he did. That he’s so deeply damaged nobody could ever fix him. This time, if Misha is surprised, he doesn’t let it show, he only lowers his head and slightly shakes it, as if he was only disappointed.  
  
“Stop it, you’re drunk…” he has a point, and the fact that he has a point doesn’t help him calm down, at all. He is, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to drink this much, because he doesn’t want to look so vulnerable in front of him; but it is how he is and he doesn’t want to hide it, not anymore.  
  
He’s so tired of pretending he’s someone he isn’t. He’s so tired of pretending he doesn’t have feelings. He’s a human being, he’s a human being and he needs to be sad, he needs to be angry, sometimes; he needs to let his emotions free sometimes, he can’t wait till he explodes.  
  
“And? Are you implying that it would hurt less if I wasn’t?!” he half-screams at him, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence, letting the tears stream down his face, without caring about how pathetic he probably looks right now. He’s miserable and he wants to be somewhere else, far away from the love of his life who just got married to a girl he’s never met before and didn’t even know existed less than two months before.  
  
This time, what he can see in Misha eyes, even though his sight is blurry, is pure agony; or, maybe, he’s just imagining it. He keeps crying, and he keeps looking at him, as he steps closer and raises a hand, as if he wanted to reach out for him. After some seconds, he lowers it, and looks at the ground.  
  
Nathan doesn’t know what to do anymore, he wants to run away, he wants to throw himself into his arms and fade away. This is too much to stand, he can’t do it anymore. They’re so close and yet so far away, like there was an ocean between them that wasn’t there before; or maybe that has been there all the time, they just knew how to cross it before.  
  
Now he doesn’t know anything anymore. He’s not as confident as he felt before, when everything was fine and when he had everything.  
  
He even starts to think that maybe those people who say that he didn’t deserve to win the Worlds are right, because he’s not good enough, his jumps are floppy and his artistry inexistent; who do they think he is, someone who only cares about winning, so much that he would pay the judges to make him win? He’s not so low, he’s only trying to do his best and people always take it like a personal attack.  
  
Yeah, maybe they’re right, he’s only won because Yuzuru was injured, he’s actually sure of that, but maybe then they shouldn’t say that he didn’t deserve to win. He’d never thought about it before; before realising that maybe he actually isn’t good enough for anything or anybody. He was always sure that those voices were ridiculous, considering how nice Yuzuru is with him even if he defeated him.  
  
He’s not sure of anything, anymore. He wishes he didn’t have to blame his fears on what happened with Misha, but that’s how it is.  
  
“Nathan, please…” he hears him whisper, closer to him than he thought he was, and he winces. It hurts to hear him say his name like that, as if he didn’t know what to do but wanted nothing more than explain all this and stop his suffering.  
  
“I only want to talk to you.” that’s what he wants too, but right now he can’t think clearly. Even if less than two minutes ago he asked him to clarify the situation, he doesn’t think he can’t stand being around him, in this precise moment, while he’s crying like a kid and he’s more than half-drunk.  
  
“I don’t. I don’t want to talk to you ever again.” he feels the sudden urge to push him away, because it’s only what he deserves for lying to him and to everybody else. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to listen to him for even a second, because it doesn’t feel right anymore.  
  
Because he doesn’t want him to understand, to remember, how in love with him he is, he doesn’t want to seem pathetically needy in front of him. He doesn’t want to behave like a child, he doesn’t want him to realise he’s made the right choice, because he’s only teenager who doesn’t understand anything of life.  
  
He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels Misha’s hands on his face, his fingers caressing his cheeks, and he feels like there was a burning fire inside his soul, once again, like so many other times before.  
  
He shouldn’t have let him get this close, because he knows that his touch makes him weak and he can’t do anything to fight him, then.  
  
“Stop it. I know that I should’ve…” Nathan doesn’t let him finish, he doesn’t want to hear a list of so many things he should’ve done, because it won’t help him feel better, it won’t help him understand, because he already knows and that’s what makes him angry.  
  
Moreover, Misha probably knows what effect he has on him and he’s using it in his favour, making him believe what he wants. Maybe he should’ve seen this coming, but he was too blinded by his light, the light he knows how to use to bewitch naïve people like him.  
  
He wriggles free of his touch and steps away from him, wiping away the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand, suddenly seeing more clearly than before, even in the dark of the night, with nothing to illumine them but the soft lamps in front the venue.  
  
Now, the tables have turned, because he can see Misha stand in front of there, where he belongs, and he’s seeing the scene from outside, as if he was only a passer-by fascinated by that mysterious life of someone else he can’t know about and can’t reach.  
  
He suddenly feels like a stranger, he feels like he’d never known him, he feels like he’d never loved him, even if the irremediable awareness of that not being true is still there; and he can’t just stand in a corner in silence anymore. Once he starts freeing his rage, nothing can stop him, the words flow out of his mouth like an unstoppable river.  
  
“What? You should’ve told me you had a fiancée? Too bad you forgot about it! Maybe you should think about what you shouldn’t have said. You shouldn’t have told me that you would’ve done anything for me. You shouldn’t have told me that everything was okay. You shouldn’t have _fucking_ told me that you loved me!” he doesn’t quite get to the end of his speech, because it’s seems that Mikhail can’t take it anymore, seeing that he snaps back at him, maybe a bit too loudly.  
  
“But I do love you!” the words hit Nathan like a tsunami, like a lightning, they leave him completely stunned, as he stumbles back a step, almost physically falling backwards because of the impact. He blinks at him, wanting to call himself stupid for believing what he’s saying, knowing that he can’t.  
  
Because those words don’t sound fake, they sound like the most truthful fact ever. The wave of emotions that hit him with them is impressive and frightening, and he knows he’s not lying. This doesn’t help him understand, they just make him more confused than before, because it doesn’t make sense, it makes no sense at all.  
  
He’s just gotten married, he’s just sworn to give his entire life to somebody else, and now he’s telling him that he’s been in love with him all along, and that he lied about many things, but that his feelings were sincere.  
  
Does that mean he’s married someone he doesn’t love? It can’t be. He’s seen him with her, he’s seen how he smiled to her, how absorbed by her presence he was, and he knows that he cares for her, a lot, even. But then why-  
  
“What?” he confusedly whispers, narrowing his eyes, as if he was trying to understand if he actually hasn’t misheard or imagined the words, but, the more he looks at him, the more he convinces himself that he’s said them and now can’t take them back anymore.  
  
After all, it seems like he was right before, even if he’d refused to listen to him. Maybe it _is_ hard to explain, when he’s evidently confused himself.  
  
Misha passes a hand over his face and sighs deeply, probably realising he’s said something he wasn’t supposed to ever tell, one of the most profound secrets of his soul, and that now he’s slowly drowning in the mess he’s made.  
  
“Listen. I don’t know how–” he looks down, biting his bottom lip, clearly frustrated by his own stupidity, trying to find the right words, which seems lost into the meanderings of his mind, playing a game of hide and seek.  
  
“I never lied to you. Yes, I should’ve told you… this.” he gestures towards the venue behind him, looking terribly embarrassed and feeling like a thief, standing in the only stretch of darkness between two spots of glassy light.  
  
“But what I said was never a lie. It’s difficult to explain, I–” he shakes his head, not convinced with was he’s saying.  
  
“I’ve known her for a long time, we’ve been together for a long time and this was bound to happen, one day or another.” again, he glances back, like he wanted to make sure everything’s still there, even while focusing on what’s happening in this moment.  
  
Nathan doesn’t want to run away, anymore, he only wants to listen to what he has to say, because he knows this time he’s going to believe every single word that flies out of his mouth, maybe naïvely, but knowing that it’s not a lie.  
  
“She’s the stability in my life. But sometimes what’s certain makes you think you might go crazy; and everything you want is a breath of fresh air, of freedom.” this time, he looks down, perhaps because he’s ashamed of his own thoughts, because some people would want nothing more than a spark of certainty, while their whole world is falling apart, and here he is, talking about chains and a fiery desire to escape from everything you know to be true.  
  
“You were never supposed to mean this much.” he raises his eyes from the ground and fixes them on him.  
  
Nathan feels like dying again, because he can see his whole soul and he can see that it’s suffering, he can see that it’s just as lost as he is.  
  
“But you can’t control your own emotions, even when you think you can. It’s stupid to say, but I think I love both of you, in different ways, but I do. I just want you to understand why I chose her.” he understands; he doesn’t know how, but he does.  
  
He knows how some people would see him if he just left his fiancée right before the wedding, above all his family. He’s heard things about Russia which he doesn’t know if are true, but he’s got the idea that, mainly the older generations, are attached to old habits. Also, he doesn’t dare to imagine what would have happened had they known who he was in a relationship with. Well, actually, who he cheated on his soon to be wife with. He sharply nods, unable to find the right words.  
  
“I wouldn’t have chosen, but I didn’t have a say in this. This is my life, but I understand that this was not right towards both of you. That’s not how normal people’s lives work. You fall in love with a person at a time, and I know it. I don’t know how it happened. I just know that it did. But I swear, I love you.” Nathan can’t take this anymore. He doesn’t completely get what he’s saying, he doesn’t think something like that could ever happen to him, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. He believes him, every fibre of his being believes him, every piece of his still broken heart believes him.  
  
He doesn’t know what takes control of him, he only knows that he lurches forward and kisses him frantically, his whole body shaking like crazy, and he’s scared, because he doesn’t know how he’s going to react.  
  
He’s more surprised that he should be when he kisses him back, burying his hands into his curly hair and messing it up more than before.  
  
When they break apart, they don’t move away, they just stand there with their foreheads one against the other. Mikhail is leaning against the wall behind him, forgetful of everything that kept worrying him mere minutes before.  
  
Both are completely engrossed by each other, so much they don’t remember where they are, or where the music’s coming from, trying to pretend this is just a normal day and this is just one of their normal kisses hidden in the dark. Except this kiss is a goodbye and they know they won’t be able to see each other ever again, not like this. They have to learn without each other, even if right now it seems impossible.  
  
After what feels like barely a second, while they’re lost in the sky with all the stars and their light, no other sound but the one of their breaths interlacing, they fall back down from the cloud they were on and understand it’s time to go back to reality.  
  
Misha kisses him again, more softly and sweetly, on the edge of his lips, ghosting there for a second, while he slides away from his embrace, murmuring something which sounds like either “forgive me” or “forget me”; then, he starts walking back where they came from, without looking back.  
  
Nathan stares at him for some seconds, wanting to persuade himself that he’s really gone and not going to come back, before lowering his eyes to the ground, trying so hard not to cry and failing miserably.  
  
Hot and bitter tears stream down his face and fall on the ground, on his shoes and between the crowded blades of grass. He feels alone like he’s never felt before; he feels like there was no hope anymore.  
  
He cries silently for an undefined time, before gathering the courage to go back inside, too.  
  
He doesn’t ask himself which emotions the invited felt seeing the groom step back inside with his nose half-broken and covered in blood. He doesn’t think about what they asked him or if they were worried because he’d randomly disappeared.  
  
He just goes back where his friends are, who, if they notice some traces of blood on his face, or on his clothes, or dry on his curls, don’t say anything about it, and just go on pretending this is just a normal wedding.  
  
Nathan looks back at the centre of the party. Mikhail’s there, once again, with his wife. They’re both smiling, they seem happy and radiant. Somehow, this time, he manages to smile, too.  


**_I keep dancing on my own_ **

**Author's Note:**

> That was weird, make me promise to never write this pair ever again, I don't know what the heck is going on, my mind went where it wanted and I couldn't stop it.
> 
> Anyway, hope you somehow enjoyed, bye.


End file.
